


Baggage

by mattzerella_sticks



Series: Season 14 Inspired [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 14x05, Coda, Dean Feels, Dean Winchester Has Secrets, Dean and Sam Winchester talk about feelings, Emotional Dean Winchester, F/M, Hunter Sam Winchester, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Nightmare Logic, Protective Sam Winchester, Scared Dean Winchester, Supportive Sam Winchester, Understanding Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-21 00:46:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16566365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mattzerella_sticks/pseuds/mattzerella_sticks
Summary: Coda to 14x05Sam thought he knew what he was doing with his life. He thought he knew his brother, Dean. He thought he knew all there was about killing monsters.But here he is, feeling at home leading a crew of hunters in a war against empowered creatures they haven't a clue on how to fight, and getting to know his brother all over again, in a new light.Sometimes the years strip you away until you're left with who you really are.





	Baggage

**Author's Note:**

> So this episode was good, with some great moments between Mary, Bobby, and the boys.
> 
> But who says we can't add a little something-something after to make it even better?!?
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy!!

            The bustle of the Bunker nearly put him to sleep, the hunters’ movements slow and hypnotic. Watching his friends dance around each other, exchanging weapons and ammunition as if they were greetings. It brought a smile to Sam’s lips to see how comfortable they’ve become with the Bunker. He knew their network would be strong, but Sam never suspected the other world’s refugees would choose his home as theirs. Figuring that, like all hunters, they would prefer the open roads and cheap motels. He should have realized they were nothing like the old breed of hunters – especially since they _prefer_ working together.

            ‘ _It seems it’s not just the monsters that are evolving_ …’

            “I thought I told you to get some sleep.”

            Sam turns. Dean stands in the archway, his arms paternally crossed – an image so familiar it’s burned in his mind. As is Dean’s ‘I-know-better-listen-to-me’ scowl. The title needs work, but his brother patented “bitch-face” and while he’s loath to admit it, it’s a great name. So great, he slips into one he’s perfected that, when paired with the right words, will have Dean disarmed in no time.

            He frowns. “I was. Figured if I did a bit more tonight I’d be able to sleep in. Although… weren’t _you_ supposed to be sleeping, too?” The blow lands, and Dean staggers backwards. The tips of his ears burn an incriminating scarlet, and he can’t meet Sam’s eyes anymore. ‘ _Point for me_.’

            “So we both have trouble sleeping,” he says, “Not surprising.”

            “Not at all.”

            “Anyway…” Dean clears his throat, unsticking his gaze from the floor to the scene behind Sam. “Didn’t know if you wanted to… _talk_.”

            Sam’s eyes widen. “Talk?”

            “Yeah?”

            “Um… okay.” They’ve been having a lot of discussions lately. As if they were tying up loose ends or buttoning scenes in a television show – the types of things that make you feel like something’s finished when in reality, the story’s only just beginning. But never at Dean’s behest: Sam always making the opening parlay. If he _wants_ to open the lines of communication first then it must be important.

            He looks to Dean, waiting. His brother stalls as well, skittish, his jaw working through the words he wants to say. It’s all for naught, as a hunter squeezes past them and upends all of Dean’s thoughts. “Why don’t we do this somewhere else?”

            “Kitchen.”

            It’s not anymore private than the library or the main floor. With no locks or hidden corners, someone could walk in on them. But the kitchen is probably the safest most public place for Dean. Maybe because it’s where the beer is, or Dean likes to have something to do with his hands while he talks – Sam doesn’t know why. Thankfully, like earlier when they were making their calls, the kitchen is deserted.

            “So,” Sam starts, waving away the beer Dean tries to offer him (and glaring sternly at the one he takes for himself), “what did you want to talk about.”

            Dean finds the label more interesting than him, with the way he’s picking at it. The prolonged silence only makes Sam more nervous.

            He speaks before Sam has to. “Bobby and mom are getting… close.”

            “Yes…”

            “I just – I wanted to see how you’re feeling.”

            It’s as if a weight was tossed from his chest and he could breathe again. Out of everything his mind worked up, Dean’s question was the furthest possibility. He barks out a laugh before he could stop himself, surprising the other man. “Sorry,” he continues, “but if I wasn’t okay with it, I wouldn’t have let them go to Donna’s cabin.”

            Dean blanches even further. “So you know what they’re… what they’re probably doing?”

            “Getting to know each other, relaxing, find a life _outside_ of hunting – _together_ ,” Sam lists off. An unwelcome thought flits through his mind, and he scrunches his face in disgust. “If you brought me here to ask if I’m okay with them having –“

            “No, no!” Dean reaches across to stop him. “I don’t even wanna be _thinking_ about –“

            “Then why ask me?”

            “I don’t know.” He scratches at the back of his neck before taking a long sip of his beer. “Figured she’s our mom… we only ever _knew_ her with dad –“

            “ _You_ only knew her with dad,” Sam tells him, “I knew _of_ her and dad. There’s nothing I can remember that would make it… awkward for me.” He takes a long pause. “Is… that how you feel?”

            Dean’s silence is answer enough. But his words help fill in the blanks Sam doesn’t understand. “A little… I don’t know. Like, I get that she’s her own person and not like how we – how _I_ remember her. She doesn’t owe us any explanations on who she wants to be _with_. And I like Bobby, even if he’s the same crotchety bastard just from another dimension. But… there’s still this part of me that feels like she’s… _betraying_ dad? I didn’t want to bring it up with her, but… that doesn’t make me bad does it?” His voice got so small at the end, Sam had to strain to hear him. He did, and it squeezed at Sam’s heart.

            “No, Dean, it doesn’t.” Sam strings together something he hopes makes his brother feel better. “It’s probably normal, really – what you’re feeling. No matter how ‘over’ something you think you are, it can still affect you. But you know what is good? Letting her go. Mom needed this trip as much as Bobby… and if either of us asked, she would have put it off. We all need these little moments so we don’t go crazy.”

            The smile that finds its way onto Dean’s face lets Sam know what he said worked. “Yeah, Cas said something like that…” His expression shifts again, this time in frozen horror. As if Sam had caught him doing something he shouldn’t. It was reminiscent of times where Sam would wake up to see Dean sneaking back in at an unlawful hour, boots in hand, trying not to make a sound. At least, he wore the same look. “Not that I talked to him about any of this.

            Sam sees through the lie. He pounces. “Y’know, it’s not just good mom and Bobby found some time apart… I’m almost… _glad_?”

            “You are?”

            He nods. “Yeah. I think mom’ll be good for him – that is, if he lets her in. I heard he has an _awful_ time with that. Mom says he has _walls_. But I’m sure she can knock ‘em down. I think she’s already started _chipping_ _away_.” Sam mimes a pickaxe, taking joy in the way Dean watches him in exasperation.

            “Okay,” he says, “I _might_ have called him. Warning him about the monsters – for Jack’s safety, of course. And maybe this came up among… other things.” Sam has a guess as to what ‘other things’ _really_ meant. But Sam’s already pushed too far ahead. If he stomps too loudly while Dean’s like this – hunched over, wringing the neck of the bottle, eyes obsessively scanning the exits – there’s a good chance he’ll be dealing with a dust cloud instead of his brother. This portion of their conversation requires finesse.

            “How is he?” Sam asks, “Jack’s been keeping me updated on their hunts but… Cas doesn’t like to check in.”

            As if without meaning to, Dean relaxes. A glimmer sparkles in his eye, different from the glare caused by the kitchen’s fluorescents. One of the easiest smiles Sam’s ever seen in his life stretches his lips. “He’s doing great, like always,” Dean says, “Having a blast hunting with Jack. Apparently, with _this case_ they found a ghost and instead of just smiting the sucker he let the kid figure out what object was tied to the soul. Jack is learning a lot… becoming a real natural. Although with the way he’s progressing, he might be hunting on his own soon.” He chuckles, draining the remnants of his bottle.

            Sam echoes with his own laugh. “I doubt Cas would let Jack go solo this early. But…” he makes a risky move, “maybe we could give Cas his own break.”

            “What do you mean?”

            “Well…” he has to watch his footing, otherwise it’ll end up in his mouth. “I’m sure Jack misses us. Maybe me or-or _you_ could drive up and join them, do a hunt or two. Or Cas comes back and we – we switch. One of us takes Jack on a hunt while Cas has a small breather.” There’s a small fumble, if Dean’s raised brow is anything to go by, but Sam doesn’t budge.

            “Just what are you getting at?”

            “Nothing,” he lies, schooling his features to resemble innocence. “I just miss having the kid around and – and I’m sure you’re missing Cas, aren’t you?”

            “Well of course, but –“ He pauses, his eyes trailing up from his bottle to Sam. Without realizing, Sam stumbled his way onto a mine. “Wow. Real subtle there, Sammy.”

            “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

            He rolls his eyes. “How long have you known.” Sam’s about to attempt another smart-ass answer, but Dean sees it a mile away. “And if you say ‘know what’ I swear I’ll shave your head in your sleep.”

            Sam would never risk his gorgeous mane. Years of hard work and thousands of dollars of conditioner would have been spent in vain if Dean destroyed it all with a two-dollar razor. “Not too long, probably after Cas came back from The Empty… but once that happened everything before and after just kinda… fell into place?”

            Dean doesn’t say anything for a while. He slides his bottle across the table, back and forth, with only the monotonous scraping breaking the silence. Sam watches, afraid of what Dean might say next. He’s so worried, he almost misses it when Dean finally speak back up.

            “You’re not wrong.”

            Sam’s jaw drops. “What?”

            “About Cas, I…” Dean’s voice is hoarse, but he’s maintaining eye contact, “I miss him in… in _that_ way.”

            “What – um… and what _is_ that way.”

            “…The love kind of way.”

            “Does he know it’s that way?”

            “…I’m not sure. I think so, but…”

            Sam’s afraid the bottle will break with how Dean’s squeezing it. But it’s not in his grip for long before he’s tossing it back and forth again. “You deserve it, too,” Sam says. Dean barely acknowledges him, so he says it again louder. Dean heard him that time; with brows lowering so deep they nearly crawl over his eyelids and mouth tugging down into a scowl.

            “Sam –“

            “No, don’t tell me ‘it’s too late’ or ‘it’s not worth it’ or whatever other bullshit you’ve fed yourself. If you have these feelings, you should let Cas know. I’m sure he feels the same, and if you let him –“

            “And if he does, then what?” Dean asks, “Then we go off into the sunset and don’t worry about the world anymore? Hang up our hats and move on with our lives, away from monsters and demons and angels?” He pulls back, processing the words that left his mouth. They hit Sam like bricks, knocking all the wind out of him.

            “Is… is that what you want?”

            Dean barely meets his eyes this time. “Maybe… I’ve been thinking about it.”

            There’s a question in Sam’s mind, but it’s almost too frightful to ask. He still does. “Would you be retired if it wasn’t for Michael?”

            “Honestly,” Dean says, “…yes. If he wasn’t in the picture, I don’t think I’d still be doing this.” A beat after, barely a whisper, he says, “I’m sorry, Sam.”

            That shakes him out of his stupor. “Hey, hey, you don’t – you don’t have to apologize to me. After everything we’ve been through, it takes real strength _not_ to throw in the towel. I was just… caught off guard.” He tries for a joke. “You never gave the me impression you wanted to quit?”

            It misses the mark terribly, leaving a wet splat on the floor. “How could I? I’ve never really thought of a life _besides_ this and all the – all the time I’ve _tried_ to get away it… it always keeps coming back. And now with these ‘roided up monsters, we might never see an end.”

            “Even if there isn’t one, it doesn’t mean you always have to be _on_ ,” Sam tells him, “It's like a highway. You can pull off to the side of the road, at any time, to rest – like what mom and Bobby are doing. If you need that now, with Cas, I’m sure I can –“

            “You can what? Manage an army, research, _and_ deal with a teen? You’d die from exhaustion before I get back.” He sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Look, whatever’s between me and Cas it can – it can wait until Michael is dead. We’ve waited this long already… what’s a few more months?” Even Sam can hear the doubt in his voice, as if Dean played the wrong note on a piano.

            Sam doesn’t let up. “You don’t have to keep attacking this just because you feel responsible, Dean. Let _us_ shoulder some of that weight.”

            “Sammy, you’ve got enough on your plate to last years.” He pulls away, now, standing. “It’s not just that I feel responsible, Sammy it’s – it’s a lot of things. Michael’s one of them – the threat that he’ll find us and… and get me is still there, hanging over me, waiting to just push me back underwater. But there’re also the nightmares: losing you, mom, and Cas over and over again – the people I care about. It’s… it’s dad.” He fidgets with his fingers, tugging at them, trying to wrench them from their joints. “Trying to be comfortable enough to actually _enjoy_ what I like and… letting go of all that baggage.” He chokes out a watery laugh, covering his eyes with his hands, “It’s like you said, Sam. Those things you think you’re over – they still have a way of affecting you. I’m trying. I’m trying everyday to work up to what I want to say to Cas. And when I do I hope we’re both alive so we can _do_ something about it.”

            He’s still there, but not for long, already swaying, ready to move. Sam doesn’t want to let this all end on the bitter taste Dean left him with. Thinking fast, he says what he can. “I can’t wait to see that. Whatever future you want with him… I want to be a part of it, too.” It’s the right thing to say, a semblance of a smile breaking out like the sun on a cloudy day.

            “Thanks, Sammy.” He gulps down a big breath, and sighs out another chuckle. “ _Feelings_ … I’m more tired after this talk than any fight we’ve ever had this year.”

            “You and me both.”

            “I’m gonna hit the sack – for _real_ this time. Don’t stay up too late now, okay?”

            Sam smiles. “I’ll try.”

            He doesn’t know if he’ll truly get any sleep that night, determined now more than ever to defeating Michael. After years of living under shadows – of monsters, his own demons, _John Winchester_ – Dean is finally letting himself feel the light. There’s no way he’ll let an archangel from another world stuff his brother into some box he doesn’t feel comfortable with.

            Sam may never have wanted to be a hunter, but it’s what he was born to do – he can’t deny it. He always thought it'd just be him and Dean, though. He never thought there'd be a whole network he could rely on, and with him at the head. It's unexpected, but not unwelcome. If that's who he'll have to hunt with once the war's over, then he'll keep at it. Especially if that means his brother can live the life he wants, whatever that ends up being.

**Author's Note:**

> So what'd y'all think? I missed writing from Sam's POV and decided this would be a fun way in. Hope you enjoyed reading as much as I did writing!
> 
> Drop a kudos/comment to let me know how you really feel!! ;D


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